


Mistletoe

by HowardR



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts Fifth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23298847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR
Summary: A moment in Harry's fifth year goes a little differently.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 98





	Mistletoe

Harry had never really wondered what he wanted from life.

He had decided, long ago, that he wanted to be an Auror. In spite of the fact that he now knew that the person who had spawned that desire in him was a literal death eater, he had clung onto that childhood wish. He had never really wondered what had made him want that, or even really wanted it at all beyond a vague ‘I want a job’ inspiration. His life had pretty much been put on hold by the whole ‘Voldemort’ deal.

He sighed. He hadn’t considered it before now, at least.

Of course, he wouldn’t get a job until he had killed Voldemort, this time for good. He didn’t know how Voldemort had survived the first time. He didn’t know much at all, really.

He was unprepared.

He closed his eyes, and his head fell slowly onto the cold stone wall. The feeling of the freezing stone on his forehead made him sigh gently, and he felt, for a moment, the bizarre urge to smile.

Hogwarts always knew how to get his spirits up.

He may be good at defense; in fact, it was his best subject. He really did smile at the thought of his continued ability to duel. It had even helped him survive against Voldemort, back in the graveyard.

He could do well. He could be ready. But instead…

_ Instead I’m attending Hogwarts and going through teen drama. Like a kid who doesn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders. _

He still had bad days, sometimes. Days when he thrashed in bed, images of men turning to dust beneath his fingers, of bulbous yellow eyes glinting as a mouth swallowed him whole.

Of the graveyard.

He didn’t think he could use a portkey without sweating for a long time.

He had nearly had a panic attack just the other day, for god’s sake.

He was a mess.

He chuckled.  _ And instead of doing something about it, I’m sulking over it. Just like a normal teen. _

_ A teen without the weight of the world on his shoulders. _

No, he had never really considered what he wanted from life. The whole ‘don’t die’ thing had kind of slammed the breaks on his normal life. Things like having a family and getting a job were distant concerns, far in the background of more prevalent things.

Like Voldemort.

_ What do you want from life, Harry Potter? _

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

“Talking to oneself is the first sign of insanity, Harry Potter.”

He jumped, whipping around with a hand already on his wand. When he caught sight of the intruder on his thoughts, however, all the tension left his shoulders as he smiled tiredly.

“Hello Luna.”

Luna smiled back, albeit absentmindedly. Her eyes wandered casually around the room of requirements, and he took the time to inspect her figure.

He had always really liked Luna. She was a bit odd, in an endearing kind of way, and something about her flared an odd protective urge in him. Maybe it was the bullying she had been submitted to, or the loss of her mother. Or maybe it was just her thin stature.

She was wearing attire that was fairly normal, considering it was on Luna. The uniform was impeccable, the bronze and blue scarf hanging loosely around her thin, pale neck. There really wasn’t anyone he knew, except maybe himself, who was as pale as Luna. It was just another thing he found likable about her.

She was wearing her usual radish earrings, and, as usual again, her wand behind her ear. There was a necklace of butterbeer caps glinting beneath her scarf, and he couldn’t help but smile a bit less tiredly as he saw it. When his eyes wandered further down, though, he began to frown.

He decided to take the chance that she was barefoot by choice.

“Luna? What happened to your shoes?”

“Oh, the Nargles got them.” She answered dreamily, eyes still meandering distantly around the room. It was another thing he liked about her; she never seemed sad.

He decided to forgo questioning her about being here. He was glad that she was, after all; so why look a gift horse in the mouth?

And plus, questioning Luna never really went well.

“Nargles?” He questioned in response. “I thought you protected yourself from them.”

Harry had to admit, he highly doubted that Nargles were real. But you could never really tell with Luna, and Harry also was a bit on the fence about whether she talked about her creatures because she really believed in them, if it was a metaphor, or if she just liked seeing people’s brains bend in on themselves.

As her eyes finally found him again, making distant eye contact, he smiled again. He couldn’t help it. Something about Luna always made him smile.

His worries were already beginning to fade.

She gave him a slightly surprised look, as if she hadn’t expected him to remember. He smiled back at her, as her gaze returned to dreamy.

“Well, yes, but I don’t exactly sleep with my shoes on, do I?”

He nodded. He decided against questioning her further; it would simply make his brain hurt. “Makes sense.”

They fell into silence. This was another thing he had always liked about Luna. With anyone else, this silence would’ve felt uncomfortable, but with Luna, it was as natural as speaking was. He fell tiredly into a chair, and began to tap out a four-beat rhythm with his fingers.

_ Tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap, tap, tap, tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap, tap, tap, tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap, tap, tap, tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap, tap, tap, tap. _

His fingers didn’t even stall as golden, liquid notes began to flow into the air, melody lining up with his methodical tapping. He smiled gently as Luna began to play the flute.

He vaguely recognized the tune as the one Luna was always humming. But, played on flute, it sounded so much more…

_ Musical? _ Inquired a part of his brain that sounded far too Snape-like for his liking. He sneered at it.

_ Beautiful. _

The melody began to fade after a short moment, and he reluctantly finished his finger rolls. For some reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint, he didn’t want to stop.

“Where did you learn to play the flute, Luna?” He asked quietly, hiding the disappointment in his voice. The disappointment faded, though, as Luna smiled widely at him.

Something in his stomach shuddered oddly.

“Mum taught me,” she answered happily. “Thanks for playing with me, Harry. I don’t really get the chance to play much these days.”

He smiled back, ignoring the feeling in his stomach. “My pleasure, Lu.”

Something in him froze as the nickname slipped out, unsure where it had come from. His thoughts were always fully-formed by the time they slipped out of his mouth. He had never spoken on  _ instinct _ . Faught, yes, but spoken?

To his relief, though, Luna didn’t even seem to notice. He thought her eyes sparkled oddly as she began to inspect the room again, but with Luna you could never be sure.

And if she had cared, wouldn’t she have said something?

They fell into another silence. Any worry Harry had about the odd slip began to fade as something in him began to feel warm. Not hot, just pleasantly warm. Like how you felt when you had a good meal.

Luna made him feel like that.

“Anyway,” Luna went on distantly, walking forward and gently grabbing a book off the table. “I just came here to pick up my transfiguration book.”

“Oh,” Harry said quietly, unable to keep his voice from having a touch of the odd surge of disappointment he had felt.

Luna walked backwards a few steps, clutching her book to her chest. Her eyes latched onto his for a moment, but they wandered away less than a second later. Something in her gaze made his stomach clench strangely.

It seemed his insides were always doing strange things around Luna.

She turned and began to skip towards the door, humming tunelessly as she did. His eyes latched onto her hair, whipping in stringy strands behind her, and his stomach clenched more strongly.

“Wait!” He said suddenly, rushing forward a few steps. For a short moment, it appeared Luna had not heard him, or was simply choosing to ignore the plea that had escaped his mouth. He wasn’t quite sure why his hand reached forward, and his feet carried him onward like this. It was like when he had summoned the cup in the graveyard; instinctive, immediate. Something that his heart was doing without the input of his brain.

Only difference was, in the graveyard, his brain had frozen from fear. Here, his brain was screaming ‘ _ what are you doing, Potter?! _ ’ At him in increasingly desperate tones.

Just as he was about to shout out again, Luna turned sharply and stood rock-still. Harry stumbled a bit for a moment, only managing to stop when he was just in front of her.

There was less than an inch between them. He was taller than Luna was, and he looked down into her shimmering grey eyes. His breath hitched gently as he finally skidded to a stop. He was close enough to smell the hint of almond from her, and he could see the glint of her Butterbeer necklace beneath her scarf winking at him in the dim light.

“Oh,” he whispered, the sound slipping from his mouth without input. Even his heart had stopped giving him advice, everything in him suddenly stopping as he stared into Luna’s eyes.

“Is ‘o’ the letter of the day, Harry?” She whispered. Her voice had a tone he had never heard before; short and breathy. “I wish someone had - had told me.”

Her breath had hitched and she had stuttered when her eyes went up, tracing the lines of the ceiling. “Mistletoe,” she said gently, staring up. Her voice had regained it’s usual floatiness, though there was still an odd note in it he couldn’t quite place.

He didn’t look up. His eyes traced the lines of her face gently, like the gentle, fleeting touches of feathers. Traced the line of her nose, jaw, eyelashes.

Suddenly, Harry was struck with the thought that Luna had a nearly ethereal beauty about her that he had never noticed. Her nose was small, and a hint of pink was lighting up the edge from the cold Hogwarts draft. Her chin was small and sharp, her cheekbones clear and skin smooth. His eyes traced the line of her lips for only a moment before moving onward, his stomach flipping once again.

“You should be more careful, Harry,” she said, voice less breathy but still with that odd  _ something _ that he had never heard in a woman’s voice. “Mistletoe is often infe - infected with Nargles.”

Her voice had hitched again and regained that breathy note when her eyes had went back down, staring right back at him. He could feel a flush on his cheeks, and something odd was burning in his blood. His stomach was periodically clenching and unclenching, and his brain had left the building.

He wasn’t sure weather the feeling in his stomach was good or bad. He simultaneously wanted to run away and stay here forever. His stomach had given up on clenching and was now  _ twisting _ , wrapping in on itself and tying into knots.

The words finally pierced his brain through the fog that had gathered, and he reached for the glinting necklace that was still winking at him. Once again, he acted without thought, though this time he thought distantly that his heart was too busy flipping between stopping and hammering to make him do that, either.

He took another small step forward. He was close enough now that he could count Luna’s eyebrows and could feel the light warmth of her clothes. He noticed that she had a light blush on her cheeks.

He paused only for a moment, staring right back at her, before slipping the necklace around his neck as well. It hugged them just the  _ tiniest _ bit closer, and his nose brushed against hers fleetingly in an approximation of an eskimo kiss. He thought he heard her breath hitch again when that happened, though it was hard to tell through the pounding in his ears.

“Now we’re both safe,” he whispered back.

“Oh.”

He smiled down at her. The clenching in his stomach was still demanding that he either  _ run _ or stand still and stare at Luna, but, in spite of the fact that his brain had left the building a while ago, it seemed like their was a voice whispering at him in his head.

_ Go for it. _

_ You’re not a Gryffindor for nothing, are you? _

_ It’s just Luna. You’re safe with her. _

His hand reached up, again without input, and tucked a strand of the stringy hair hanging across her cheeks behind her ear. His fingers lingered there for a moment, dancing across the soft skin it had come in contact with.

Luna’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and her breath came out as thin, white clouds in the frozen air of the Room of Requirements. When they opened again a moment later, there was some gentle flame flickering in them, providing the warmth that the room was sorely lacking in.

“Harry?” She whispered, voice shaking. “What are we-”

He seized her, pulling her flush across his body and slotting them together as snugly a two puzzle pieces. Her question died in the air as his lips found hers.

It was short, chaste. Neither of them had ever kissed before, and there was no experience in the hesitant movements. His glasses pressed uncomfortably against her cheek, and there noses bumped clumsily.

And yet, it may as well have been perfect for all the participants knew.

It was only a moment later that they both pulled back. Her lips were slightly swollen and her eyes were glittering like fireflies, and his hair was tussled and glasses askew. He fell forward, his forehead resting against Luna’s and letting him stare at the eyes he had never really noticed had that strange, shimmering light that, to him, made her far more attractive than dark lipstick or tight dresses ever could.

“Hey,” he whispered, a dopey looking grin plastered on his face.

“Hello, Harry,” she whispered back, eyes distant and foggy.

“You want to go with me to Hogsmeade next week?”

She stared at him a moment, before a massive, brilliant grin lit up her face. “I would love that, Harry.”

...Maybe he did know what he wanted from life.

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning, evening, or night!
> 
> This is my official first fanfic. I'm a touch disappointed in myself for writing something like this - trust me, the rest of my stuff will be much less stilted to read and much less... fluffy. But I just couldn't get this one out of my head until I put it on paper.
> 
> I'll work on getting a beta soon, I promise.
> 
> Everything belongs to our lord and ruler, the almighty J. K.
> 
> -Howard


End file.
